


Truth and Consquences

by KatScratches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatScratches/pseuds/KatScratches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Peter is caught & made to confess before the Potters are killed. The Remus/Sirius bits are rather subtle, but they're there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth and Consquences

**Author's Note:**

> By request -- had to contain Peter being driven by a secret, unrequited love for Remus, a hatred of Sirius, and jealousy of a stable S/R relationship. Originally written in 2004/2005.

**Truth and Consequences**

 

October, 1981.

Lily is huddled at the table, her finely-boned hands wrapped tightly around a mug of sweet tea into which Sirius has added a liberal amount of firewhisky. She holds the cup tightly so that no one can see how her hands are trembling.

James stands behind her, strong Quidditch-calloused hands rubbing the taut muscles of his wife's shoulders. He can do nothing else but stare uncomprehendingly at Peter, thinking only of words like _betrayal_ and _friend_ and _trust_ and _Voldemort_.

"I only made a bargain," Peter says. "You shouldn't take it so personally."

 

September, 1970.

When Peter boards the Hogwarts Express for the first time, he knows no one on the train at all. He threads his way through the throngs of chattering students, hoping for an empty compartment. There are none.

Peter opens the door of the last compartment just as the train begins pulling away from Platform 9¾. It's occupied too, but before he can mutter his apologies, a bespectacled boy with messy dark hair grins at him and gestures at an empty seat.

"We're First Years too," the boy says. "I'm James Potter."

"Sirius Black," adds another dark-haired boy who is peering excitedly out the window. Peter notes the boy's finely chiseled cheekbones and piercing gray eyes, and suddenly feels very plain and out of place.

"I'm Peter Pettigrew," Peter says, a touch shyly, finally sitting down.

The fourth boy leans across the aisle, extending his hand and offering a tired but friendly smile. His eyes are an odd amber shade that Peter can't recall ever seeing on another person before, and he is instantly captivated.

"I'm Remus Lupin," the fourth boy says as he shakes Peter's hand.

 

October, 1981.

Sirius stands at the window of the dingy gray room, studiously keeping his back to Peter while he chainsmokes Muggle cigarettes down to the filter. He is too angry to speak, to think coherently, and he hopes savagely that the magical bindings keeping Peter tied to the chair are just that little bit too tight.

The silence in the room is heavy, suffocating. None of them want to ask, and they each wait for another to voice the inevitable question.

James finally bursts out with it, his hoarse voice chopping raggedly through the silence. "Why, Pete?"

Peter says nothing, and stares at the scuffed and marred tabletop.

James adds, "We trusted you."

 

November, 1971.

Peter's jaw drops open when Sirius and James take him aside and hurriedly confide their suspicions about Remus being a lycanthrope.

"That's… Well, it's crazy," he sputters. Then he thinks of bright amber eyes, and how they really aren't a human colour. He thinks about Remus disappearing every full moon, every month with a different yet equally flimsy excuse. His first instinct is to run and hide; werewolves are notorious killers and Peter is quite sure that he doesn't want to die.

But then he remembers a warm laugh, and the gentle way Remus' hand felt atop his own last year as he guided Peter through some intricate wand movements. He thinks about honey-coloured hair, and how Remus never makes him feel left out or awkward.

The door to their dorm opens and Remus walks in, warily eyeing the three boys who look suddenly, strangely guilty.

"What's going on?" he asks curiously. The tawny hair is slightly windblown, the amber eyes utterly guileless.

Peter decides all at once that every bad thing he's ever heard about werewolves must be a lie, because he already knows that Remus is no monster.

 

October, 1981.

Remus leans against the wall next to Sirius, who is still glaring out the window where night is falling fast outside. Their fingers are intertwined, and with his free hand Remus absently pushes his fringe out of his eyes. His mind is simply reeling with the realization that it is _Peter_ who is the traitor, that all along it has been _Peter_ passing secrets to Voldemort.

He had thought, crazily, that it might have been Sirius.

It is Peter, he thinks, who really was the rat.

"We were your friends," Remus says, his quiet voice carrying easily through the room. "How could you even think of doing this?"

Somewhat dreamily, Peter says, "He promised me my heart's desire in return for James and Lily."

Sirius flinches so sharply that he drops his cigarette.

 

April, 1975.

Nobody can figure out how Sirius could be that thick, sending Snape, unsuspecting, to the Shrieking Shack on a full moon night. Remus is furious. For the first time there is real discord in their little band of brothers.

Peter sits on the edge of Remus' hospital bed in the Hogwarts infirmary. It has been a bad transformation this month, worse than usual, and they all blame Sirius for the added stress. Madam Pomfrey, who is rather furious with Sirius herself, allows that Peter may have a few minutes alone with his friend.

Awkwardly, hesitantly, Peter throws his arm around Remus' shoulders, and the other boy unconsciously leans into the embrace. Peter surreptitiously buries his nose in the thick, honey-coloured hair, ghosting the briefest of kisses across the top of Remus' head. He fervently hopes that Remus doesn't notice how Peter's heart is pounding.

"I don't understand," Remus whispers brokenly. "He was my friend. I trusted him."

 

October, 1981.

Peter fidgets against the magical bindings. "Couldn't you loosen these a bit?" he asks. "They're a bit tight."

Sirius smiles bitterly at his reflection in the window as he lights another cigarette. Outside, the sun has finally set, and the streetlamps are throwing pools of amber light onto the road. _Matches Remus' eyes_ , he thinks, although he knows that isn't strictly true. Remus' eyes are really more of a dark amber flecked with brown and gold, whereas the streetlight, when one gets right down to it, are really only a sort of odd yellow.

"Tough," he says to Peter. "Suffer."

 

March, 1977

He supposes he shouldn't be upset that Remus is talking to Sirius again, but Peter's bothered by it all the same. He doesn't know why, except that he feels like he is on the outside again. For one thing, James has finally managed to get Lily to go out with him. For another, Sirius and Remus never seem to be anywhere without each other. Remus has apparently forgiven Sirius for the prank on Snape the previous year, but Peter can't understand why this should mean they are now practically joined at the hip.

One spring afternoon Peter wanders morosely into the dorm - again alone, for James and Lily have gone to Hogsmeade - and stops dead. There are two heads nestled together on Remus' pillow.

Sirius is asleep in Remus' bed, as is Remus, their limbs loosely entwined. The blankets are low enough across their hips for Peter to realize they are both quite naked.

He realizes what the musky smell is, hanging on the air.

A wave of silent fury washes over Peter, and he suddenly hates Sirius Black more than anyone else in the world.

He goes back down to the common room, alone.

He is still shaking with fury in front of the common-room fire when James and Lily return from Hogsmeade an hour later. When they inquire, Peter says he thinks he might be getting the flu.

 

October, 1981.

"You weren't supposed to find out," Peter says accusingly.

"What," says Sirius, wheeling around from the window, disgust etched across his face, "like that's supposed to make us all feel better?"

 

December, 1979.

Snow crunches under his feet as Peter heads up the icy walk of the little house in Godric's Hollow. His breath hangs in the frigid air, little puffs of white among the fat flakes falling steadily from the sky. As he raises his mittened hand to knock, the door opens as if they have been watching for him.

"We were watching for you," Sirius laughs, grabbing hold of Peter's arm and half-pulling him inside. "Get in here before you let all the warm out."

"You made it!" James exclaims, sticking his head out of a doorway. "S'posed to snow like a bugger later. Is it yet?"

"Yeah," Peter says, shrugging out of his coat. "Just started about ten minutes ago."

"Good," James grins. "I love a white Christmas." He ducks back into what Peter decides must be the kitchen, as he can smell the delicious aroma of Lily's cooking.

Peter turns around to find a place to lay his coat, but his attention is caught by a soft laugh from the next room. _Remus_ , he thinks, and his heart clenches a little. He has never told Remus how he feels. He doesn't know how to go about it, either, but he is sure that Remus, always a man of logic, would easily come to see Peter as a good choice.

Never mind that Remus is with Sirius, _with_ Sirius, and has been for some years now. Never mind that Remus is blissfully happy; he could be happier. Peter is sure he could make Remus much happier.

He wanders into the living room, where a massive fir tree has been hauled in and propped up in the corner. It is so festooned with Christmas decorations that it's nearly impossible to see the tree underneath.

"Hello, Peter," Remus says, and Peter greets him, trying to ignore Sirius' arm draped casually over Remus' shoulders.

When, during supper, Sirius leans over to Remus and whispers something inaudible that still makes Remus shout with laughter even as he blushes, Peter barely manages to not throw his wine in Sirius' handsome face.

 

October, 1981.

"How did you find out?" Peter asks. He really is curious; he'd thought the plan through so carefully, so thoroughly.

Remus rubs a tired hand over his brow. He is exhausted, both mentally and physically, and he wishes Dumbledore would hurry up and get there with the Ministry officials and cart Peter off to Azkaban, so that he and Sirius, and James and Lily, could go home to their respective houses and pretend that this day had never happened.

"Sirius told me," Remus says. "He said you were the Secret Keeper."

"But what clinched it," adds Sirius, "is that you suddenly got all evasive after the Fidelius Charm was done." He stops to light yet another cigarette, nearly the last in his pack. "So we had you tailed."

 

January, 1980.

"But I don't understand," Peter says, his voice faltering a little in the presence of such raw power. "Why Lily and James?"

Voldemort's upper lip curls in utter distaste. "That isn't your concern, is it?"

Peter swallows audibly. It isn't his concern, not if the Dark Lord says it isn't. He knows that, yet… He wonders, not for the first time, if he is making the right decision.

"You question your loyalty," Voldemort says, his voice cold and thin. "As do I."

"No, my Lord," Peter hurries to answer.

Voldemort turns to face him then, and Peter reflexively flinches away from the flat, hard gaze. "With whom do your loyalties lie?" he snaps.

Peter jumps; he cannot help it. "With you, my Lord," he whispers.

"Not with your so-called friends?"

"No…"

Voldemort regards him coolly. "Not even with your werewolf?" He laughs at the shock on Peter's face, a cruel and mocking sound shattering like ice in the firelit room. "Yes," he continued, his voice sliding hypnotically over Peter. "I know about your Dark Creature. We're alike in that, you and I, alike in our madness for Dark Creatures."

Peter can't seem to focus on anything but the Dark Lord's implacable stare. The fire is burning low, and he feels as if the surrounding darkness might just swallow him up if he were to let it.

"Do you want him?" Voldemort asks suddenly. "Do you want the werewolf?"

"Yes," breathes Peter. "More than anything."

"Then," purrs Voldemort, "he will be yours…"

Peter's breath catches in his throat.

"…in exchange for the Potters, of course."

 

October, 1981.

"It was foolproof," Peter says. He smiles beatifically at Remus. "Foolproof."

Remus stares at him in shock.

"Everyone thinks Sirius is the Secret-Keeper," Peter continues dreamily, his eyes never leaving Remus. "He'd have been blamed, sent to Azkaban no doubt, and I would have been there to console you."

Sirius makes a choking noise in his throat. His gray eyes are wide, helpless, and his face has turned utterly white.

Peter says, "You'd have come to love me in time, Remus."

 

July, 1982.

They are quietly celebrating Harry's second birthday at the little house in Godric's Hollow when the owl comes bearing the news that Peter has received the Dementor's Kiss.

Lily is the one to untie the parchment from the owl's leg, swallowing back tears as she reads it twice over to herself. Wordlessly she hands it to James.

"Good riddance to the traitorous bastard," he spits. Then James' face clouds over, and he has to take off his glasses to wipe roughly at his eyes.

Under the table, Sirius laces his fingers through Remus', and thinks to himself how incredibly lucky he is, how lucky they all are to still be here and alive. He squeezes Remus' hand, putting into the motion all that he could never be able to say with mere words.


End file.
